


Life Doesn't Stop

by aeternamente



Category: Nothing Much to Do
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-04
Updated: 2014-08-04
Packaged: 2018-02-11 18:00:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2077692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aeternamente/pseuds/aeternamente
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pedro wasn’t the kind of sop who believed in <i>one true love</i> or <i>soulmates</i> or anything, but he couldn’t ignore the fact that he’d really only fallen in love the once.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Life Doesn't Stop

He really had to splurge to get a ticket in the front row, and he had to admit it was a bit of a blow to his modest teacher’s salary, but Pedro’s motto had always been go big or go home. And even if this grand gesture ended up leading nowhere, it would be worth it.

Of course it would. It was Balthazar.

Pedro wasn’t the kind of sop who believed in  _one true love_  or  _soulmates_ or anything, but he couldn’t ignore the fact that he’d really only fallen in love the once. He’d dated regularly enough since then—women and men in pretty equal measure, depending on who he was drawn to. At one point, he figured if he wanted to settle down, he might as well just pick someone and give it a go. Relationships were all about what you put into them, right? But that had only ended in a spectacularly failed engagement with a girl he’d known from university, so he gave up on that idea.

Sometimes, he couldn’t help but feel he’d made a mistake breaking it off with Balth eight years ago when his touring schedule and Pedro’s university workload meant they just didn’t have time for each other anymore. The breakup itself was amicable enough, but the aftermath was brutal. He withdrew from all of his friends and drank more than was probably good for him, and his grades began to suffer. He just hated looking around at his world and knowing that Balthazar was not a part of it.

But life didn’t stop. Life never stops, and Pedro was grateful for that. Some concerned professors gave him ultimatums and he listened. Some concerned friends pulled him back into a social life and he let them. Classes were rewarding, and after he graduated and got a job, teaching was rewarding too. He prided himself in being the “cool teacher,” maintaining a casual, laid-back atmosphere in the classroom, and always being available for help and advice.

And if a shy, artistic kid came to him needing advice on what to do about that popular, probably straight guy he had a crush on, Pedro may have had to swallow back a lump in his throat before answering, but he did his best.

He was scrolling through the news on his tablet one morning when he saw the article for Balthazar’s homecoming tour, including a concert in his hometown of Messina. Pedro nearly dropped his coffee when he saw it. He read every word of the article, and stared a little too long at Balth’s picture at the top of it (he was very nearly late for work as a result), musing over how his hair and clothes may have a bit more of a polished, punk-chic look, his face may be a little more chiseled, but those earnest, piercing eyes were exactly the same.

He tried to ignore it at first, sternly reminding himself of the last time he’d gone to one of Balth’s concerts in his last year of university. They’d ended up making out in his dressing room afterward, but then Balthazar regretfully reminded him that they still led very different lives.

"I could come with you," Pedro protested. "I’m almost done with school, I could put off getting a job—"

Balthazar shook his head. “You don’t really want to do that. You want to do something that fulfills you, not tag along after me.”

He was right. Pedro couldn’t argue. But it was difficult to put his whole heart into looking for a job after that. Once again he had to work himself back into a normal life without Balthazar. So he decided he wasn’t going to get drawn in this time. He had settled it with himself that he was going to live his life as a confirmed bachelor. He was okay with that. He liked that. He didn’t need another encounter with Balthazar to mess with that.

But then he started hearing rumors that Balth might be coming back to New Zealand for good. He couldn’t just take this as fact without proof, or so he told himself as he hunted down and read an interview on a blog site that confirmed the rumor:

> **Interviewer:**  You’ve been touring for some time now, with your home base in New York, but there have been rumors that you might return to New Zealand for good with your homecoming tour. Is there any truth to this?
> 
> **Balthazar:**  I’ll be honest, I’ve been thinking about it. New Zealand is a beautiful place, and you know, I grew up there, it’s home. I have a lot of old friends that still live there, so you know, it would be great to be able to see them again. But I haven’t decided anything yet. I think I have to just wait and see what happens.

Pedro may have also searched for any evidence one way or the other on whether Balthazar had a boyfriend or some type of significant other. There was no evidence to be found, which was frustrating, but typical of Balthazar, who had always been a private individual.

During this search, he kept seeing reminders that tickets for the homecoming tour were going on sale at midnight that very night. Well, he had let himself slip this far, and if there was any chance… he just had to go for it.

He got his ticket.

* * *

"Pedro! I was wondering if I’d see you here!" Ursula approached and gave him a big hug. "How are you?"

"Oh, you know, same as usual," Pedro answered.

They chatted and caught up as they inched toward the entrance to the auditorium. Pedro tried to focus on their conversation, but kept feeling distracted.

"Pedro," Ursula finally said, "what’s up?"

Pedro shook his head. “Just thinking about…” he waved his hand around vaguely, “…you know, stuff…”

"Balthazar?"

Pedro sighed and nodded.

"Pedro, are you sure you want to be here?"

Ursula was the only one from their high school group who had ended up at the same university as him, who knew what happened…  _last time_ , and had helped him get through it.

Pedro took a deep breath. “I think I  _need_  to be here.”

Ursula hugged him again before they parted ways to find their respective seats.

His seat was farther off toward the side than he’d anticipated, which might have been a good thing, as the whole idea of being the first thing Balthazar was likely to see as he looked out at the audience was starting to make Pedro feel queasy. He also wasn’t sure about this whole idea he had of approaching Balthazar after the concert. Maybe it would be a better idea to facebook him or something?

In the midst of all these doubts, the concert began. The first thing he realized was that he was ill-prepared to be sitting where he was, with all of the biggest fans. Sure, he occasionally broke down and listened to Balth’s albums, but they tended to put him in a bad head space, so he hadn’t listened to them enough to remember all the words, and he felt like an impostor because he couldn’t sing along like everyone else.

But he soon settled into the awe of just  _seeing_  him up there. He remembered Balthazar’s performance style from when he used to do the occasional coffee shop gig with the only accompaniment coming from him on his guitar or electric piano or ukulele or whatever. His voice used to shake a little as he introduced songs, and he performed as one closed off in his own world. He used to say that if he paid too much attention to his audience, he’d freak out and not be able to go through with it, so he just had to focus on the music and pretend nobody was watching.

Now he worked effortlessly with a rotating cast of instrumentalists and backup singers. Sometimes the music reached the kind of orchestral density he used to admire in some of his favorite Mumford and Sons songs (he used to bemoan the fact that he didn’t have the resources to do it himself), while other times, he was alone with a guitar, and other times joined by a smaller core of band mates. He encouraged singing and dancing along from the audience, told jokes and anecdotes. He had become the kind of performer Pedro had always known he could be. All of this made Pedro feel rather small in comparison.

Now, the concert was nearly over, and Pedro was nearly decided. He wouldn’t seek Balthazar out afterward. He was pretty sure he hadn’t been noticed, and Balth probably had enough to deal with interacting with all his other fans. What good would it do for him to see some old boyfriend he’d probably forgot about by now?

"For my last song," Balth said from the stage, "I’d like—" He stopped cold. Pedro looked up and found Balthazar’s eyes fixed on him. The whole audience began to whisper in confusion, the soft buzz of the whispering mingling with the soft, electric tingle running all over Pedro’s skin.

Balthazar blinked, but continued looking directly at Pedro. “For my last song,” he began again, more slowly, and perhaps a little shakily, “I’d like to sing something most of you have probably never heard of, something I’ve hardly even looked at since high school, so here’s hoping I remember it.”

The audience laughed uncertainly. The other band members exchanged confused glances, but then Balthazar approached them and whispered something, and they nodded and went offstage. Balthazar sat down at the piano. The music that came out as he laid fingers to keys took Pedro back to the memory of a cheap plastic keyboard and a black-and-white video of a teenage boy singing a love song.

* * *

Pedro decided to wait.

He waited until all of the fans had come and gone, until everything wrapped up for the night, and the musicians and crew were exiting out the back door. He heard snatches of conversation about how things went—the successes, the tiny technical problems that nobody ever noticed, that weird switch-up at the end—what was that about anyway?

Balthazar came out last, and even in the darkness, Pedro recognized him at once. Spiky hair, suit jacket, skinny jeans. He was staring at the ground, toying absently at the strap for the guitar case slung over his back.

"Balthazar," Pedro called.

Bathazar looked up and smiled. “I thought I’d missed you,” he said.

"No, I’m here."

Balthazar nodded. They were standing about two feet apart now.

"So how have you been?" Pedro asked, for want of anything better to say.

"Good… good." He nodded. "It’s been a good tour."

"Yeah, you were amazing up there."

Balthazar smiled at the ground, then after a moment, looked up. “It’s been good being back home,” he said softly. There seemed to be something expectant in the way he said it, something that gave Pedro the courage to ask the thing he needed to know.

"Do you think you might stay?"

"I might," he said, "if I have a reason to."

Pedro ploughed ahead.  _Go big or go home_. “Would I be a good enough reason?”

Balthazar broke into a grin as big as anything Pedro had seen from him.

"You were exactly the reason I was hoping for."

They grinned at each other like idiots for a very long moment.

"Come on, let’s get a drink," Pedro said. "We have a lot to talk about." He took Balthazar’s hand as they walked out toward the parking lot.

It still fit in his.


End file.
